


We Kiss in a Shadow

by grelleswife



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M, Grelle finally gets the passionate kiss she deserves, a completely self-indulgent piece i wrote, because the world needs more sebagrelle, even Sebastian can't resist the red reaper, female pronouns for Grelle, sometimes even demons can catch feelings, these two skip straight ahead from enemies to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 02:11:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18401030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grelleswife/pseuds/grelleswife
Summary: I wrote this one-shot after receiving a Tumblr prompt piece where, after an intense fight, Grelle and Sebastian share a kiss in which they demonstrate their love for one another. At least for the time being, this is a stand-alone work, though I would be open to writing more shorts if anyone would like to send me additional requests!Is Sebagrelle likely to be canon any time soon? Probably not. Is that going to stop me from shipping these two like mad? Heck no! I exclusively use female pronouns for Grelle and write her as a trans woman.Please do let me know your thoughts in the comments! I am also on Tumblr (same username) if you'd like scream about Kuroshitsuji with me. :3





	We Kiss in a Shadow

_Fighting someone whose skill and ferocity rival your own entails a certain degree of intimacy_ , Sebastian Michaelis reflected as he narrowly dodged yet another rapid swing of Grelle’s death scythe. The divine weapon’s low, harsh buzz harmonized with the unbridled laughter of the reaper who wielded it with such astounding dexterity.

_Close combat with a fellow immortal could not be more different from skirmishes with humans—feeble, pathetic insects that they are_ , he mused, parrying Grelle’s latest attack with a fistful of the finest Phantomhive cutlery. _You must be perfectly in tandem with your opponent’s movements, attuned to the slightest saccade of the eyes or twitch of a muscle, intertwine your spirit with theirs until you are one heart, one mind. With the exception of soul-eating, there is no pleasure so exquisite._

And never had he experienced this connection as deeply as with the irrepressible reaper known as Grelle Sutcliff. Even during their initial clash in the wake of Madame Red’s death, when each had been fully prepared to kill the other, Sebastian had the distinct impression that they were engaged in a wild, exhilarating dance, a savagely flirtatious waltz. The seemingly incessant rain that gently pattered upon London’s streets that fateful evening could not douse the flame that the encounter sparked within him. It flickered just beneath his skin, hungrily whispering for Grelle. _Grelle_.

When she unexpectedly appeared at his young master’s sprawling estate this night and challenged him to another match (“I _so_ long for more vigorous exercise with you, dearest Bassy”), Sebastian’s false heart had leapt in anticipation. Another chance to test his mettle against hers, another bloodstained promenade with this ostentatious, delectably maddening woman…who was he to refuse such a lady? Thus had their current battle begun.

The whirring chainsaw suddenly brushed against the side of his neck in a vicious kiss, even as Sebastian’s silver knives lightly caressed Grelle’s abdomen. Phosphorescent green eyes met his piercing, carmine gaze. “My, my, Bassy,” Grelle drawled, displaying her sharp, blindingly white teeth in a broad grin, “We are at each other’s mercy. Whatever shall we do?”

“Given that we have reached an impasse, Miss Sutcliff, it appears that the most logical course of action would be to end in a draw,” he replied.

For a fleeting instant, at the use of the feminine salutation, he saw an emotion he could not quite define stir within the depths of Grelle’s eyes. The moment passed, and Grelle cautiously lowered her death scythe as the demon returned his knives to the inner lining of his waistcoat. “So considerate of a lady’s feelings,” she murmured, looking up at Sebastian coyly though the dark, artificial lashes she had applied with such care. He felt a curious flutter in the pit of his stomach.

“But I must bid you good night until our next passionate tryst, my love. William has a mountain of tedious paperwork for me to slog through, and a woman must get her beauty sleep…”

“William can go hang,” Sebastian snarled, surprised at the surge of rancor that welled up within him at the mention of Grelle’s superior. Such a fusty, straightlaced dullard could never appreciate a soul such as Grelle’s, a spirit all compact of fire. Not like he could.

“Oo la LA,” the reaper tittered, tilting her head coquettishly, an impish smile playing about her lips. “Could it be that my Bassy is jealous?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Sebastian sputtered indignantly as, to his chagrin, a faint blush spread across his cheeks. “I merely meant that…that there are…better pursuits with which to while away your eternity.” He had always prided himself on his facility with language—it was a weapon that he could bend to his will as he saw fit, the golden thread with which he had made countless human masters dance as his gullible puppets. But something about the alluring woman watching him so intently caused his mind to gutter out like a dying candle, words swirling out of reach like leaves cast aloft on the wind.

“Such as?” she enquired softly.

Sebastian took a step closer. Almost unbidden, a gloved hand came to rest tenderly against Grelle’s cheek. He leaned towards her, his sable locks lightly brushing against her forehead. At this range, he clearly saw the golden dusting of freckles across her nose that even the most meticulously applied makeup could not conceal from his keen demon’s eyes. _What an enchanting creature_.

Without a sound, Sebastian closed the remaining gap and kissed her fiercely. Grelle gave a low cry of mingled pleasure and astonishment, death scythe clattering to the ground as he avidly took possession of her mouth. It was a contemplative, lingering kiss, his agile tongue caressing the contours of every one of those delightfully sharp teeth as if to say, _I want you completely and utterly to myself_. As Sebastian felt Grelle’s hands reach up to the back of his head, fingers clutching his silken hair in a furious ecstasy, he went deeper, eliciting a soft, needy sound from her throat that promptly dispelled what little command of English remained at his disposal in such a state. He next turned his attention to her slender, lily-white throat. Tooth and tongue ravished Grelle’s soft skin as he muttered a trail of half-formed endearments in dark, passionate Latin down her neck before biting her shoulder with a brutal tenderness that was certain to bruise. Marking her as _his_ woman.

_Mine._

_MINE._

He finally pulled back with a gasp, breathing heavily. Grelle stared at him, scarlet hair tousled, her eyes luminous torches in the night.

“As I suspected. You are a _tiger_ beneath your butler’s finery, Sebastian Michaelis,” she laughed. That mysterious fluttering sensation returned tenfold when he heard his current alias uttered in such tones.

Her eyes narrowed playfully.

“But I am a rose with thorns.”

Without further ado, Grelle pulled the demon’s head towards her, bestowing a kiss of her own. Sebastian half-growled, half-purred as Grelle nicked his skin in her rapacious haste, drawing a trickle of blood with teeth as piercing as briars. But this pain was as spice to a lavish banquet, adding a certain requisite piquancy to their union. Their hands shifted to one another’s waists, and the two moved closer still as Grelle lavished her ministrations on him. _I am an unceasing fire, always devoured yet never consumed_ , she seemed to say with her fierce, reckless kisses. _I shall fill your infinite emptiness._

Abruptly, Grelle pulled herself from his embrace with a little laugh. “ _Mais non_!” she cried gaily as Sebastian reached for her with a moan of protest. “A true lady never leaves her man fully sated. Would he come back to her otherwise?” She took him by the hand, gently turning it over to kiss the center of his palm. “Not to fret, my darling,” she whispered. “I’ll return soon enough to pick up where we’ve left off. I do believe,” (another kiss graced his palm, his long, slender fingers—even through his glove, Sebastian could sense the ardor of her oh-so-red mouth) “I’ll have to _keep_ you.” Releasing the butler’s hand from her grasp, Grelle spun about gracefully on her heel, retrieving her discarded death scythe. “ _Au revoir_ , my love,” she called out as she strode away into the night, hair streaming behind her like a fiery banner. “See you real soon!”

Sebastian was left staring after her, shaking his head in consternation. In the midst of shadows, without the auspices of his master, he had shared a kiss with a grim reaper, a being who should by all accounts have been his mortal enemy. It made no sense whatsoever, as absurd as a comedy, as fraught with peril and strife as a tragedy.

“ _A true lady never leaves her man fully sated_ ,” Grelle had declared. If only she knew. Despite himself, Sebastian found himself enthralled by her. A queen making hungry where she most satisfied, a wild rose with the sharpest and bloodiest of thorns.

His fingers traced the curve of his lower lip in silent meditation. “I should like to kiss you in the sunlight someday,” he mused aloud.

The Phantomhive butler had finally gotten a taste of Grelle Sutcliff, and he was already ravenous for more.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from one of my favorite songs in the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical The King and I, "We Kiss in a Shadow." I thought it went well with the theme of clandestine, forbidden romance. Sebastian's last line, "I should like to kiss you in the sunlight someday," is based on the closing lyrics from that same song: "To kiss in the sunlight and say to the sky/ Behold and believe what you see./Behold how my lover loves me!"
> 
> "...a spirit all compact of fire.": Taken from the Shakespearean poem "Venus and Adonis." "Love is a spirit all compact of fire,/ not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire."
> 
> "A queen making hungry where she most satisfied": from Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra, Act 2, scene 2: "Other women cloy/ The appetites they feed; but she makes hungry/Where most she satisfies." At least in my mind, this quote suits Grelle beautifully!


End file.
